


Wine and Watches

by kay_emm_gee



Series: Bellarke Fic Week: February 2015 [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 8: Wedding</p><p>Bellamy and Clarke learn that spilled red wine may not be something to cry over, but it sure can be something to get angry, and maybe later kiss, over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wine and Watches

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is late, but enjoy :)

“The serving tray is supposed to go on your right hand,” Clarke hissed as she passed by Bellamy in the crowded reception hall. ****

“I’m left handed, Griffin. Do you _want_  me to dump this on a guest?” Bellamy muttered back, scowling in annoyance at his co-worker.

With a narrowed glare, Clarke just glided away, sleek blonde ponytail swinging behind her as she moved back into the throng of wedding guests. From his position in the corner, Bellamy watched her transition from group to group, offering pretentiously named appetizers with a saccharine smile that made her seem sweet and kind.

What a joke. Clarke Griffin was a pain in his ass, determined to show him up at every opportunity. They had both started working at Kane’s Catering a few months ago and had clashed since the first day. Clarke followed protocol to the letter—from her eerily consistent punctuality to her rigidly assembled uniform—and thought less of anyone who did not. While Bellamy’s tie was always a bit too loose and crooked, and he was never on time (coordinating three job schedules could get difficult), he knew how to work any crowd and always responded well to mishaps, which were frequent with Kane’s crew. Initially, Kane had thought they would be the perfect compliment to one another, but after a heated argument had ended with a whole tray of red wine glasses accidentally spilled on a client’s mother, Bellamy and Clarke had been banned from working on the same team. That was, until tonight.

When Kane had called him earlier to ask if he would fill in for Harper, who had called in sick with the flu, Bellamy had considered turning it down. He knew Clarke was working the Cooper wedding. Unfortunately, though, college bills were staring him down from the piles of mail on his kitchen counter, reminding him that the problem of paying O’s tuition grew more urgent every day.  With a sigh, Bellamy had agreed to the offer, barely holding back an ‘I will if she will’ at Kane’s reminder to play nice with Clarke.

That promise was going to be hard to keep if Clarke kept scowling at him from across the reception hall every chance she got.  _Stuck-up pretentious princess._ He still didn’t know why she was working here. From what he had gleaned from talking with Miller and Raven, Clarke was from a well-off family. She certainly didn’t need this job, like he did, like most of them did. Still, Bellamy could grudgingly appreciate her commitment to a job well done; she redefined dedicated, often staying late to prep the night before an event and always the first one to be ready to leave for one. Clarke was nothing if not a committed employee.

Bellamy almost regretted thinking that when Clarke mouthed for him to  _‘get his ass in gear’_  and imperiously motioned him out into the crowd. Just to spite her, he approached a group of young women, plastering a charming smile on his face as he offered them his tray of appetizers. As he expected, a few of them blushed and giggled. Sliding a glance over at Clarke, whose face was pinched into an annoyed expression, his grin grew genuine as well as smug. He knew it frustrated her beyond end that at these events he always performed well with women, young women especially, which was one group she could never manage to get good reviews from.

As she turned around, heading for a group of groomsmen, however, Bellamy’s smile slipped. Watching her laugh flirtatiously with the captivated guests, he abruptly abandoned his group, muttering a half-hearted excuse. His stomach clenched uncomfortably as he pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen, confusion at that feeling washing over him. Tossing his tray onto a nearby counter, Bellamy huffed in frustration.

“What’s up?” Miller called out from his prep station.

Bellamy just shrugged, not wanting to share.

“Oh god,” Raven complained. “Hide the red wine. Only Clarke can put that disgruntled look on your face.”

Miller threw Bellamy an exasperated look. “You have to let her stop getting under your skin, man.”

“Or maybe she just needs to stop being a nagging pain in my ass.”

Before his coworkers could respond, the kitchen door swung open violently. Clarke stormed into the kitchen, blowing past Bellamy to slam her empty tray down on the counter. The sharp movement blew a few strands of her hair loose. Focusing on the uncharacteristically untucked back of her shirt, Bellamy chuckled.

“Hey Griffin, tuck your shirt in. You know the uniform regulations,” he chided provokingly.

“Fuck off, Blake,” she growled, causing the rest of them to start in surprise. “I’ve already fended off one dick tonight. I’d like to keep it to that one only, so shut up.”

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed a full tray and headed back for the ballroom, but Bellamy caught her arm as she passed.

“What happened?” He asked, trying to catch her gaze. As she snapped her eyes up to meet his, he felt his stomach twist in concern at the fury and vulnerability in them.

“One of the groomsman thought my ass was on the menu. Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she bit out, yanking her arm from his grip.

As the kitchen door swung wildly behind her, Bellamy swore under his breath. Flicking a glance at his coworkers, he saw Miller scowling and Raven gripping her knife with white knuckles.

“Keep an eye on her, tonight, yeah?” Raven ground out, slamming the utensil down on the cutting board.

“On it,” Bellamy agreed firmly as he took another tray and set out into the reception hall.  

For the next hour, as he circled the room full of drunk guests with tray in hand, pretending to be invisible, he watched Clarke carefully. She still smiled at the guests, but there was a brittleness to it now, especially whenever she approached groups of men. One pack she just avoided entirely, and Bellamy couldn’t help but glare at the clustering of obnoxiously loud groomsmen every time he passed them.

At one point, Bellamy lost track of her. When he found her after a few concerned seconds of searching, he saw her attention held by a guy from that group. The drunken idiot kept leaning into her space, even though she repeatedly moved away from him and refused to maintain eye contact. Feeling anger flare in his chest, Bellamy crossed the room quickly, headed straight for Clarke and her stalker. As he drew closer, he kept on going, not even slowing the slightest bit, so that when he reached them, his tray of filled-to-the-brim glasses clipped the moron’s shoulder. The guy yelled in surprise as red wine showered down on him, and Bellamy saw Clarke flinch away from crash.

Bellamy didn’t even bother to utter an apology as the guy swore at him, just bent down to pick up the broken pieces of glass. When he pulled out a spare rag to wipe up the mess, he realized Clarke was already mopping away. He quirked his mouth in a satisfied grin at her.

“Don’t,” she muttered fiercely, blue eyes flashing in anger. “I cannot believe you.”

“He was being inappropriate, what did you expect me to do?” Bellamy retorted, feeling his irritation rise. He’d done an incredibly stupid, job-endangering (okay, possibly overdramatic) thing for her, and here she was, more pissed at him than before.

They continued cleaning in silence, whisking the mess back to the kitchen as quickly as possible. Walking in, they were greeted by the mother of the bride, who was already chewing them out to their coworkers. As the calmest of them, Miller tried to placate the irate host, finally agreeing to her demands to switch the two of them to kitchen duty.

“If I get fired,” Clarke hissed at Bellamy after the woman had left, “that is on you.”

“You’re not the one who purposefully spilled a tray of wine on a guest. Which I did for you, by the way. If anyone’s getting fired, it’s me.”

“God, are you two seriously making getting fired into a competition?” Raven asked incredulously. “Just shut up, and come prep more trays. Both of you are going to pay for making me do serving duty tonight.” With a final annoyed glare, she followed Miller out of the kitchen.

“I said I could handle it,” Clarke muttered at him as she plunked stuffed mushrooms down in a neat circle.

Bellamy slapped some ranch dressing into a bowl, glancing sullenly at his coworker. “I have no doubt that you could have, but I have a very low tolerance for skeezy dicks. I’m happy to take whatever punishment Kane doles out as long as that idiot’s night was ruined.”

Surprisingly, Clarke stayed silent. After a few tense minutes, she said, “I forgot. You have a younger sister, don’t you?”

Bellamy hummed in confirmation, but she didn’t say anything else. In silence, they furiously prepped the rest of the trays, and, after getting a head start on the cleanup, Bellamy realized they were out of tasks to do for the moment. As he watched Clarke thumb through her phone, he pulled on his tie to loosen it, feeling overheated. He needed to get some fresh air.

“Wanna go for a walk?” He asked absentmindedly, forgetting who he was with for a moment. When her response was merely a wry glance, he mumbled, “Never mind.”

Pushing off the counter, Bellamy ambled out the door, trying to resist the urge to go back and make nice with Clarke. He pulled his tie off completely as he walked down the path leading towards the garden. A cool breeze rustled through the fruit trees lining the path, twinkling lights intertwined in the full branches. Right as he rounded the corner to go down to the manmade pond, he heard hurried footsteps behind him.

“Hey,” Clarke called out a bit breathlessly with a small smile on her face as she approached. “Decided I needed that walk after all.”

Mimicking her earlier response, Bellamy just raised his eyebrows without saying a word. She let out an unimpressed snort before raising her hand, which was clutching a champagne bottle. “Figured we could both use it,” she added.

“Aren’t we already in enough trouble for tonight?” Bellamy asked, surprised at her spontaneity.

“It’s not like they’re going to miss one bottle. Besides, if we’re already in trouble, what can it hurt?” Then Clarke smiled brightly, dark blue eyes dancing with mischief, and Bellamy’s stomach flipped at the sight.

With a few quick movements, she had popped the bottle open, slurping at the overflowing liquid bubbling out the top. She coughed out a laugh, her nose twitching in response to the carbonation. Once the bottle had calmed itself, she slowly took a long swig, eyes still fixed on Bellamy. When she smiled again after lowering the bottle, he stuck out his hand for his turn. As he sipped, Clarke slid past him, sauntering down the pathway. He followed, passing the bottle back to her after a few steps. They were almost to dock that extended out into the pond when she broke the silence.

“I’m not going to say thank you, you know.” She paused, sliding a careful glance at him. “But, I will tell Kane it was an accident, no matter what the bride’s mother says. I’ll cover your ass, just this once.” Though her tone read like a warning, the slight uplift of the corners of her mouth told Bellamy she was teasing him.

“Don’t do me any favors,” he bantered back, tugging the bottle from her grip for another swig. Before he could lift the bottle to his mouth, however, he felt a quick peck of smooth lips against his cheek. His breath caught as Clarke pulled away, a pleased expression on her face.

“Just that one,” she quipped playfully.

Bellamy’s throat dried up as his cheek tingled from her touch, so he took a long sip of champagne to soothe it. Clarke was closer to him now, her hand accidentally brushing his as they walked down the dock. He watched loose strands of her hair swirl in the slight breeze before realizing he had been staring at her for too long, jerking his gaze back to the night sky reflected on the water’s surface.

“God, this feels amazing,” Clarke sighed as they stopped at the end of the dock, tipping her head back, eyes closed. She smiled up at the sky. “It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten a good buzz. Or done something against the rules. You seem to be rubbing off on me, it seems.”

“If drinking on the job is your idea of rebellion, then you’ve led a sheltered life,” Bellamy teased. When her eyes snapped open, revealing sadness and a bit of pain, he immediately regretted the joke. Clearly her life wasn’t what it seemed to be; he could now sense that clearly enough.

“It’s fine,” she said quietly, reading the apology set into the lines of his face. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She paused, then rested a hand on his upper arm. “But thanks for asking.”

At the sincerity in her voice, Bellamy turned towards her, bringing them close enough so she had to tip her face up to maintain eye contact with him.

“Then can I make it up to you?” He murmured, leaning his head down just the slightest, now feeling her uneven breath against his lips.

Clarke’s answer was to press her mouth to his. Feeling her smile into the kiss, he moved his free had to grip her side. She arched into him, pressing herself closer, clutching at the collar of his shirt with her small hands. Breathing in the citrus-scented air, Bellamy tasted the champagne on her lips, sliding his hand around to her lower back. Clarke hummed at the pressure, and he ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth. When she opened beneath him, warmth raced down his spine, radiating out as she deepened the kiss. Bellamy felt his breath catch as everything—her caresses, his grip on her skin, the sharp, sweet pressure of her lips against his—intensified, moving faster, producing more friction. It was a relief when she untucked his shirt, running greedy hands over his abdomen. In response, he tugged her ponytail down, running his fingers through her hair, relishing the feel of curls. When Clarke moaned at the sensation, he chuckled lowly, but it still wasn’t enough to break them apart.

Only when Raven’s annoyed calls for them echoed over the water did they separate, chests heaving and both of them smiling. Knocking his forehead against hers, Bellamy whispered, “Guess we should get back.”

“No rest for the wicked,” she retorted, causing Bellamy to roll his eyes.

“Never pegged you for a bad girl, Griffin,” he responded dryly.

Sticking out her tongue, Clarke swiped the bottle from his grasp, taking one last long sip as she backed her way up the dock. “Mm, just you wait and see,” she added in a low, seductive voice that sparked a fire in Bellamy’s stomach. Then she whipped around, throwing a laughing glance over her shoulder that had Bellamy smiling in surprise, wondering just what other secrets Clarke had in store.

* * *

With hurried steps, Bellamy sped down the garden path, feeling his face flush in the warm summer air. When he had gotten Clarke’s note back in the reception hall, hastily passed to him by a smirking Miller, he hadn’t known what to think. After reading her instructions— _meet me down by the dock_ —he had smiled, slipping away from his sister and Lincoln, narrowly avoiding being spotted by Jasper and Monty who were doing shots. He knew an open bar had been a dangerous idea with the friends they had, but Clarke had insisted. He hadn’t been able say no to her, not for this night.

The burdensome tuxedo he was wearing had been another capitulation on his part. Right now Bellamy wanted nothing more than to remove the constricting bowtie and vest, but the reception still had a few more hours to go.  _If I have to wear a ridiculous dress, you’re going to have to deal with the full monkey suit,_  Clarke had whined teasingly. He had just smirked in response, biting his tongue, because he knew just how much Clarke liked him in a tux. Last time he had worn one, they hadn’t even made it home before she had jumped him, instead ducking into an alleyway where he had made quick work of satisfying her need. As he smiled at the memory—and anticipating an even more explosive response later tonight given what they were celebrating—Bellamy finally caught sight of the dock where they had shared their first kiss, and the blonde figure standing on it, her white dress glowing in the soft, silver moonlight.

“Took you long enough,” Clarke murmured happily as he approached and drew her into his arms.

“Our friends are too observant for their own good,” he replied before leaning down to give her a prolonged kiss.

Before it got too heated, however, she pulled back, giggling lightly as he tried to pull her back to him. “Hey,” she said, pushing gently against his chest. “I didn’t bring you out here for that.”

“That’s disappointing,” Bellamy teased, running his lips against her neck, grinning as she shivered under his touch.

“Bellamy,” Clarke chided half-heartedly, letting him trail kisses down her exposed shoulder. He chuckled when she gasped as he bit down on her pale skin, fingers twisting into his jacket.

“Come on,” she said, laughing as she finally leaned back. “Stop that. I have something to give you.”

Bellamy paused at that admission, looking at her quizzically. “I thought we were doing presents after we got back from Europe.”

“This one couldn’t wait,” she replied quietly, eyes glinting with joy and a bit of apprehension. “Here,” she added, holding out a small box.

Bellamy took it in his hands, throwing her a mock suspicious glance. When Clarke smiled and ducked her head, he turned his attention back to the gift. Flicking the hinged top open, he felt emotion well in his chest as he stared down at the very familiar watch tucked inside.

“Clarke,” he breathed, ripping his gaze away from the timepiece to look at her blushing face.

“I had it refurbished, to something more modern. The face is the same though,” she told him, her voice weighted but happy.

Carefully, Bellamy removed the watch that had once been her father’s, letting it rest over his palm.

“Flip it over,” she whispered.

He did, noticing the newly inscribed note on the back of it. It read:  _To my husband, because I have something new to set my heart by. Love, Clarke._  Closing his eyes, Bellamy tried to fight the tears, remembering how Clarke had told him her father had gifted the watch to her before he died, telling her it was all the certainty she needed in life, that she could set her heart by it. The pain of that loss was what he had seen in her eyes all those night ago at the other wedding. Throat closing up, he pulled his wife against him, one hand clutching the watch and the other twisting into the soft lace of her wedding dress.

“I love you, so much,” he choked out, feeling her press a soft kiss against the hollow of his throat in response.

“I love you, too,” she whispered before he tipped her head up to kiss her soundly, reveling in the feel of her against him, glad that a little spilled wine at this very venue years ago had been responsible for a first kiss and a flare of attraction that had ignited into something much more precious: a love of a lifetime.

**Author's Note:**

> This thing, yet again, grew out of control. The catering idea was influenced a bit by Sarah Dessen's The Truth About Forever, and the watch thing is totally adapted from Alias :) 
> 
> Thanks for all the reads/kudos/comments during Bellarke week, it really helped to keep me going!


End file.
